


I Want Sexual Healing

by ladiesleaveyourmanathome



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladiesleaveyourmanathome/pseuds/ladiesleaveyourmanathome
Summary: The sexy remix to "When I Get That Feeling"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It took me no fewer than four attempts to make this threesome happen because Abby and Carol's friendship is just! too! pure! but eventually I managed it. Starts the same as "When I Get That Feeling," but then goes in a very different direction.

The jealousy fades, but the curiosity does not.

Therese can see the way Carol looks at her; can feel the way Carol touches her. Carol gives her thoughtful, frivolous gifts for no reason and brings her to lovely, expensive places where people appraise them with sidelong glances but are too well-heeled to say anything aloud. Carol sends her beautifully written letters via messenger, and listens when Therese tells her things, whether they’re important or not. There is no doubt in her mind about how Carol feels, not now, not with evidence of Carol’s overwhelming adoration revealing itself at every turn.

But Therese also sees the way Carol looks at Abby, with bright, laughing eyes, and understands that Carol will drop virtually anything – other than Therese – if Abby asks her too. She knows that Carol instinctively turns to Abby for guidance, far more quickly than she turns to Therese (or anyone else), and that Abby’s formidable, steely resolve is the only form of protection against the outside world that Carol can accept without chafing. To Carol, Therese’s desire to help is either endearing or annoying, depending on her mood; it is never comforting in the same deep, steady, fundamental way as the support Abby provides.

“No one person can be all things to another,” Carol had said one day, apropos of nothing. They were driving out to Abby’s house for lunch, and Therese had been quiet since they’d left the city, and, well – perhaps it wasn’t apropos of _nothing_.

Therese had looked over and cocked her head thoughtfully. “Then why be with just one person at all?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, one person can be a lot of things. Most things.” Carol had taken one hand off the wheel and put it on Therese’s leg. “You’re the important things to me.”

Therese had put her hand over Carol’s and believed her. She still believes her, mostly. But that doesn’t stop her being curious.

 

Something happens to Carol in Abby’s presence – a rapid uncoiling, like a hairdo coming unpinned. Carol isn’t so very much older than Therese, and anyway, her preternatural beauty defies age, but in watching her with Abby, Therese observes a youthfulness that she’s never noticed before. It appears suddenly, like a spell cast over her entire body, and Therese always feels like a voyeur when she sees it – a spy glimpsing something secret and special.

It happens to Abby, too – the stern set of her jaw and the frank severity of her eyebrows dissolving, melting, flowing into the sweet, pretty face of a girl. When she laughs at a remark from Carol, Therese can hardly believe that such a lovely, musical sound could come from someone usually so self-contained and acerbic. The two of them chatter like magpies, their voices flowing into and over each other, interrupting each other and finishing each others’ sentences – nothing like the reserved, elegant women Therese knows them both to be individually.

“We must drive you mad, Therese,” Abby says one evening, wiping tears of mirth from the corner of her eyes, still chuckling about some jibe that went well over Therese’s head.

“It’s awful,” Carol agrees. She’s leaning back against the couch – sprawling, really – limbs loose and hair mussed, looking nothing like the well-bred sophisticate she usually appears to be. “I’m sorry darling.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Therese says; and it is. She may not understand all their jokes, but Carol’s arm is around her shoulders, and Abby is grinning at both of them, and they’ve included her in their conversation all evening – which, Therese knows, they do with no one else in the world. “I don’t mind. I like to listen to you two.”

“She’s very patient,” Carol tells Abby, drawing Therese closer to her.

“She’d have to be, to put up with you.”

“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” Carol looks as happy as Therese has ever seen her, sitting in her apartment with a glass of whiskey, her lover, and her best friend.

“I know I’m so clever,” Abby retorts, winking at Therese. “You, on the other hand…”

They go on like this, back and forth, for nearly an hour before Abby declares she must return home. Carol, as usual, offers their unused bedroom – Rindy’s, in theory, although not in practice thus far – and Abby, as usual, declines. She has sobered up for her drive, but Carol is tipsy, and leans into their embrace for an extra beat as they say goodbye, their cheeks brushing against each other.

“Time for you to go to bed, I think,” Abby says, gripping Carol’s shoulders and pushing her back.

Carol just smiles dreamily and reaches for Therese’s hand, a gesture Therese momentarily sidesteps in favor of giving Abby a hug of her own. Abby’s perfume is very different from Carol’s, but it smells very good, and Therese finds herself lingering, too.

“Both of you, go to bed!” Abby insists, laughing as she extracts herself from Therese’s arms. “And let me leave. Some of us have to open the shop tomorrow.”

Therese steps back and takes Carol’s proffered hand. They wave as Abby slips out the door, and then turn to each other. Carol licks her lips. Therese inhales. They go to bed, but they don’t go to sleep.

 

Later, laying together on sheets still damp with their sweat, Therese asks, “What was it like? With you and Abby, I mean.”

Carol gives her a lazy, lascivious smile. “Goodness, what brought that to mind?”

Therese glances down at their nude bodies, and Carol laughs. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear about that sort of thing,” she says.

“Indulge me.” Therese presses closer, kisses the underside of Carol’s jaw.

Carol pulls back to give her a searching look. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just interested, that’s all. Were you as hopeless as I was, starting out?”

Carol hesitates one more moment, then nods, laughing. “Moreso,” she admits. “I didn’t even make an attempt the first time.”

Therese rolls onto her back, smiling up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to imagine you being shy.”

“Well, I was. Very.”

“But you did it again?”

“And again, and again,” Carol says. “Abby was very… persuasive.”

Therese closes her eyes and imagines it – Abby pushing Carol onto a settee, dragging her dress up around her waist, kneeling between her thighs. Carol is such a naturally dominant personality, Therese really does struggle to envision her following anyone else’s lead, but she can’t deny that the thought sends a frisson of excitement through her.

“I did learn my way eventually,” Carol adds, tracing her fingertip lightly up and down Therese’s arm.

“And I’ve reaped the benefits,” Therese replies, eyes still closed. She bites her lip as Carol’s hand takes a more exploratory route over her chest. “That doesn’t seem entirely fair.”

“Send Abby your condolences, if you must.” Therese feels the bed shift, and Carol’s body settles over her own once more. “I have more important things to do.”

 

They eat dinner together, the three of them, with some regularity – mostly at the steakhouse that Abby’s lady friend owns. Joan, a tall, buxom redhead, sits with them when she can, but is usually confined to the back. When Therese is not busy being terrified of her, she enjoys the extra company; Carol hates her. Still, Abby is besotted, and so they keep going back.

“That woman drives me mad,” Carol mutters one night as they’re driving home, hands wrapped around the wheel in a stranglehold.

It’s dangerous to get Carol started on a topic she feels this strongly about while they’re on the road, but Therese is too curious to keep her mouth shut. “Why?”

“She’s a menace,” Carol snaps. “She’s vain, and petty, and she isn’t good enough for Abby.”

“Abby didn’t think I was good enough for you,” Therese points out.

Carol waves her words away. “That was before she knew you. She absolutely adores you now, probably more than she likes me.” It’s not true, but Therese appreciates the sentiment. And they _have_ been getting along rather well lately, which Therese attributes to their mutual obsession with Alfred Hitchcock – an interest that Carol has resolutely refused to share in.

Carol, oblivious to Therese’s inner monologue, barrels on: “And anyway, she didn’t think you weren’t good enough for me, she thought you were too young for me – which is essentially the same as saying you’re _too_ good for me, so it’s nothing like this.” She pauses, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel and marshalling her thoughts. “I want Abby to be happy – really, I do – but Joan cares nothing for the person Abby truly _is_. She wants a spineless, toothless puppy who will oblige her every whim, not a strong-willed, independent individual with her own thoughts and ideas and needs.”

Therese can see Carol’s point. On more than one occasion, Joan has tried to wheedle Abby into a particular course of action – usually, cancelling preexisting plans with Carol – and inevitably throws a fit when Abby puts her foot down. “At least Abby stands up for herself,” she remarks. She likes that about Abby, and endeavors to emulate it as much as possible.

“Yes, but Joan won’t put up with that forever,” Carol says. “And when she leaves, it will break Abby’s heart, and Abby doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve that at all.”

The car swings around a curve dangerously fast, and Therese decides that they can continue the conversation at home.

 

Only when they’re turning back the covers and crawling into bed does Therese dare to ask, “Did _you_ break Abby’s heart?”

Carol purses her lips. “I wish, sometimes, that you weren’t so damned perceptive,”

“I’m sorry,” Therese mumbles, abashed. She pulls the covers up to her chin and reaches to turn off the light, assuming the conversation is over, but Carol stops her.

“I did,” Carol says. “I let her believe that I might leave Harge, because I didn’t want to stop what we were doing, and then I went ahead and got married anyway. I was cruel and selfish and cowardly, and I’m ashamed of it to this day.”

Carol’s face is smooth and hard, the way it always is whenever she’s feeling a great deal of emotion. Slowly, carefully, Therese reaches out and strokes her shoulder. She contemplates the questions she wants to ask; tries to decide whether they’re questions she probably should not ask; decides to chance it anyway. “Carol… why _didn’t_ you leave Harge?”

Carol breathes out slowly through her nose. “The fact that you can even ask that question…” She shakes her head. “You and Abby are more alike than you know. So brave, so true to yourselves.”

She closes her eyes, and Therese waits, biting her tongue. After a moment, Carol continues in a bitter, flat voice, eyes still screwed shut: “I married Harge because it was safe, and easy, and the correct thing to do.” Her voice cracks on the word _correct_. “I gave up my best friend – not to mention some _damned_ good sex – because I wasn’t up to the challenge of loving her; really loving her. She asked me to give it a chance, and I didn’t even try.”

Everything about Carol’s body language is screaming to be left alone, but Therese gives closeness a shot anyway, wrapping one arm behind Carol’s head and the other around her waist. After several long moments, she is rewarded by the feeling of Carol’s body relaxing into hers; by Carol’s eyes blinking open once more. They gaze at each other in silence, breathing in tandem, until the room feels calm again.

“You didn’t lose your best friend,” Therese murmurs, once it seems Carol has fully returned to her. “Maybe for a bit, I mean, but she came back. She still loves you.”

Carol squeezes her arm gently, looking much more peaceful but still very sad. “Abby deserves good things,” she whispers.

Therese nods and kisses Carol’s temple. “She deserves a love like this.”

 

Unfortunately, Carol’s prediction comes to fruition sooner than Therese would have expected. Just two weeks later, she’s home alone when there’s a knock at the door, and she opens it to find Abby standing the hallway, tear-streaked and red-faced.

“Oh, goodness,” Therese gasps. “Come in, come in! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice is cracked and raw. “Is Carol home?”

“She isn’t,” Therese replies apologetically. “She just ran to the store, but she’ll be back soon. Can I make you some tea?”

Abby scrubs at her face with one hand. “I should go,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’ll come back later. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Abby; come sit down.” Therese takes her by the wrist and drags her into the kitchen, propping her on their window seat. “Is black tea okay?”

Abby is unresponsive, which Therese interprets as assent. She puts the kettle on, pulls out two mugs, and drops tea bags into each along with a generous dollop of honey. She knows how Abby takes most of her drinks thanks to their ill-fated road trip back to New York, and what an oddly intimate familiarity _that_ is. While she waits for the water to boil, she finds a plate and extracts a packet of cookies from the cupboard, procured for one of Rindy’s rare visits to the apartment and not touched since. She hopes they aren’t too stale.

“Joan left.”

Therese jumps at the sound of Abby’s voice, spilling a few cookies on the counter. She ignores the mess, though, and goes to sit next to Abby instead. “What happened?” she asks, not quite daring to touch Abby’s shoulder.

Abby shrugs miserably. “Who knows. She wasn’t happy. She was bored. She wanted more.” She sniffs and hunches her shoulders. “Women aren’t so different from men, Therese. They all want something simple and bland and exactly as they like it.”

Therese frowns. “That sounds terrible.”

Abby laughs, a pathetic gurgling sound that nevertheless gives Therese hope. “You would say that. I suppose Carol is anything but simple and bland.”

“Give me difficult and interesting any day.” On impulse, Therese reaches out to give Abby’s hand a squeeze, but then the kettle shrieks, and she gets up to turn off the range.

“They don’t make many girls like you, Therese.”

Therese tucks her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Abby says, taking the cup that Therese offers her and blowing on the surface to cool it. “And Carol does too.”

 

When Carol’s key scrapes in the lock half an hour later, Therese makes to get up so that the two of them will be able to sit and talk privately, but Abby grabs her wrist. “Don’t go,” she murmurs. “It’ll be easier with you here.”

At first, Therese doesn’t understand, but she stays at Abby’s side nevertheless. “Hellooo, Ms. Belivet,” Carol sings out from the entryway, waltzing into the kitchen a moment later and coming to a halt when she sees Abby on the window seat, clutching Therese’s arm. “What’s going on?”

Abby doesn’t answer right away, and so Therese replies for her. “It’s Joan,” she tells Carol. “She called things off.”

Beside her, Abby’s frame shakes with sobs once more, and Therese watches Carol’s expression cycle from comprehension to worry to anger and, finally, to guilt.

She appreciates, then, why Abby wants her there; realizes that no matter how well Abby and Carol appear to have healed their friendship in the wake of their affair, there are still deep wounds running beneath the surface. It must be galling, she thinks, to accept consolation for heartbreak from someone who at one point caused the very same pain. And because she knows what it is like to have her heart broken – by Carol Aird herself, no less – she takes Abby’s hand in hers and laces their fingers together.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” Carol murmurs. She looks lost and awkward, hovering by the table. “I know how much she meant to you.”

Abby sniffs, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. Wordlessly, Carol produces a handkerchief from her pocketbook and hands it over. Abby blows her nose.

“Shall we puncture her tires?” Carol offers. Abby gives Carol a wobbly, exasperated smile. “Smash her windows? We have some old golf clubs in the back of the shop.”

Sticking her leg out, Therese hooks her foot around one of the kitchen chairs and draws it close. “Come sit with us,” she suggests.

Carol sinks down, then leans forward and puts both her hands on Abby’s knees. “You were too good for her,” she tells Abby, as earnest as Therese has ever heard her. “I thought you couldn’t handle a redhead, but turns out she couldn’t handle you.”

“Right now, I’m wondering if anyone can handle me,” Abby mutters bitterly. The words provoke another flash of remorse on Carol’s face, and she sits back in her chair as though she’s been stung.

“You don’t need to be ‘handled,’” Therese interjects. Both Carol and Abby look at her, surprised. “You need someone who respects and appreciates you. And I suspect there are plenty of people in the world who would leap at the chance to do just that.” She takes a deep breath and looks Abby right in the eye; tells her: “Maybe you need to set a higher standard.”

In spite of herself, Abby’s lips start to curl up. Then she laughs, shaking her head a little, her forehead smoothing as her scowl recedes. “My goodness, how ever did you find this darling thing?” she asks Carol, a bit of the usual playfulness returning to her voice. “And where can I get one of my own?”

“They’re an excellent deal at the doll counter in Frankenberg’s,” Carol replies, leaning forward and touching Abby’s leg once more. Warmth blooms between the two of them again, and Therese nearly cries with relief. “Can’t recommend it highly enough.”

“But do they ship?” Abby asks, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Special delivery; you could have it in two or three days,” Carol purrs.

Therese feels something hot spike within her; recognition of her own words, yes, but something else too. Without thinking, she squeezes Abby’s hand. Abby turns toward her, mouth opening to make another quip. Before she can say a thing, Therese leans in and kisses her.

Abby’s mouth is slack, at first; then, she kisses back instinctively for just a second; then pulls away with a gasp, wrenching her hand out of Therese’s grip and clutching it to her chest. She whips her head around to look at Carol with wide, horrified eyes, and Therese does too.

Carol’s expression is impassive. For a moment, Therese thinks she can feel the kitchen floor dropping out from beneath her feet, her whole world crumbling to dust because of one stupid, foolish, insane act. What on earth was she thinking?

Then, she sees it – spots of color high in Carol’s cheeks; a familiar glint in her eye. Carol isn’t angry. Carol is craving the same thing. Therese relaxes, but Abby must be out of practice reading this particular genre of Carol’s emotions, because she still looks frightened out of her wits.

“It’s all right,” Therese tries to explain.

Abby doesn’t even glance at her. “Carol,” she whispers. “I don’t – I didn’t –“

Carol tilts her head thoughtfully, then slides her hands from Abby’s knees to her thighs. Abby goes silent and very still. “I understand if you don’t want this,” Carol murmurs, so quietly that Therese almost can’t make out the words. “But rest assured: we do.”

Abby’s chest starts rising and falling faster. She glances at Therese, then back at Carol, then back at Therese. “I don’t understand,” she says, but she’s reaching for Therese’s hand again, and running her foot up Carol’s calf. “Did you – did you plan this?”

“Of course not,” Therese replies, affronted. “How could we have known what would happen with Joan?”

“Well, I did predict it,” Carol points out. Therese glares at her. “What? I did!”

“We’ve never discussed it in so many words,” Therese explains, ignoring Carol. “But I think it’s fair to say that there’s been…”

She trails off, not sure how to describe it – that strange, electric energy that rises up sometimes when the three of them are all together, and the way it induces both Carol and Therese to rip their clothes off as soon as Abby leaves.

“Clear indications of shared interest,” Carol completes the thought smoothly. “Unless you aren’t? Interested, I mean?”

For good measure, she adjusts the neckline of her dress. It’s a trick Therese falls for every time, and Abby, it would seem, isn’t immune either. “Oh, I’m interested,” she says, gaze dropping shamelessly to Carol’s cleavage for a moment before she manages to tear her eyes away to look at Therese. “And you? You’re absolutely certain you’re all right with this? No doubts in your mind?”

Therese, who is having trouble sitting still at this point, shakes her head vehemently.

“Well, now that’s settled,” Carol murmurs, in a voice so silky and sinful that Therese only just manages to stop herself pressing a hand between her legs. “What shall we do next?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

They move to the bedroom.

At first, there is some awkwardness between Carol and Abby, who both focus on catering to Therese in a rather obvious attempt to avoid intimacy with each other. On the one hand, Therese feels she can’t complain, with Carol’s hands on her breasts and Abby’s mouth on her collarbone; but then again, it’s not quite the dynamic she envisioned – the scenario that, frankly, she’s been fantasizing about for weeks.

Gathering her resolve, she twists in their tangled embrace, kisses Carol deeply enough to distract her, and then slips out from under her arm. Abby and Carol stand facing each other, separated by the human-sized space between them, both breathing hard but otherwise seemingly frozen in their tracks. After a moment, Carol reaches for Therese again, but Therese steps back.

“Please,” Therese says. “I want to watch.”

Carol looks stricken; Abby, slightly scandalized. Therese twists her fingers together. How can she explain it to them? How can she make them understand that, once she stopped feeling threatened by it, their connection seemed to her one of the most magical, captivating, wonderful things in the world? That she likes them – loves them – on their own; finds them both fascinating and funny; feels for Carol in particular an affinity so deep in her bones that she can’t imagine living without it; and yet, when confronted with them as a pair, experiences a contact ecstasy that she can’t help wanting more of?

“You’re _beautiful_ together,” she says.

Abby turns her face away – whether it’s shyness or sadness, Therese can’t tell – but somehow, that’s what does it. Carol steps toward her instinctively, bringing a comforting hand to her wrist. Abby looks up. They regard each other silently until Abby, seeming to arrive at a decision, reaches up and tugs Carol into a kiss.

Carol groans at the first touch of Abby’s lips, and Therese’s knees nearly give out from under her. She makes it over to the armchair in the corner, falling into it gracelessly. The sight before her is completely overwhelming, physically and emotionally, and after only a second of hesitation, she reaches under her skirt to touch herself.

Given license to act, Abby doesn’t hold back. She tears at the zipper on Carol’s long-sleeved dress, wrenching it down around her waist so the fabric pins Carol’s arms to her sides. Far from being distressed by the constraints, Carol seems to relish in it, body going boneless as Abby pushes her onto the bed. “What do you want?” Abby asks, hands busily undoing Carol’s garters.

“You know what I want,” Carol murmurs.

Abby strips Carol of her undergarments efficiently, then brushes her fingers over Carol’s lips until Carol opens her mouth and sucks them inside. Therese whines, rubbing against her palm. Abby glances over and gives her a wicked grin, then draws her slick fingers from Carol’s mouth and touches Carol between her legs.

The sound Carol makes when Abby touches her is like nothing Therese has ever heard before – low, keening, needy. Her hips buck off the bed, but Abby forces them back down, making her lie still. She’s still tangled in her dress, and Therese can see her hands flexing helplessly at her sides. “Abby,” she gasps. “Please.”

“Please what?” Abby asks, her usual sardonic tone now layered with something hungrier, more suggestive.

“Inside,” Carol gasps. “Please, inside me.”

Abby looks at Therese again, raises her eyebrow. Her pupils are blown wide, eyes almost black. Therese moves her hand a little faster. “What do you think, Therese?” Abby asks. “Should I go inside her?”

Therese looks at Carol, who is red-faced and already coming undone. She is painfully beautiful, mouth parted and eyes glazed, tilting her head to give Therese a beseeching look. “I think you should,” Therese tells Abby, holding Carol’s gaze. “But slowly. Very slowly.”

Abby winks at Therese and shifts a little, changing the angle of her forearm. Carol moans, eyes slipping shut, and whines when Abby doesn’t move any further. “I’m inside of you,” Abby informs her, adopting an exaggeratedly pedantic tone that would make Therese giggle if she weren’t already so aroused.

“For Christ’s sake –“ Carol bites out, forcing her eyes open to scowl at Abby and writhing uselessly. The sound of stitches ripping fills the air, and Therese knows she’s torn her dress.

“Kiss her breasts,” Therese suggests, and Abby obeys, nosing along the edge of Carol’s brassiere and pushing the fabric aside. She takes Carol’s nipple into her mouth and bites down, and Carol wails.

“Abby, I swear to God –“

Abby kisses across her chest and gives the other breast the same treatment. Carol tosses her head back, breath coming in short, high-pitched gasps.

“Do it,” Therese tells Abby, unable to maintain the tease. “Please, just do it.”

Abby, it seems, is equally impatient, because she abandons Carol’s breasts immediately at Therese’s words and sits up, starting to move her hand in earnest. This time, when Carol’s back comes off the mattress, Abby doesn’t push her back down; rather, loops her arm under Carol’s waist and holds her up as she thrusts into her, fast and hard. Carol is babbling, something she only does when she’s particularly far gone, and Therese speeds her own hand, feeling pleasure building low in her stomach.

“So beautiful,” Therese can hear Abby murmuring. “So good. Like that, sweetheart, yes, come on.”

Carol thrashes, hips pressing up and forward insistently, and then her legs lock and her whole body arches, suspended for a moment before she falls to the mattress, shaking violently and crying out. Therese, who has only ever witnessed that reaction up close, forces herself to keep her eyes open, even as she can feel the same intensity of pleasure ricocheting through her own body. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything as glorious as the clean, curved line of Carol’s spine in that moment of absolute climax; wonders, in a distant part of her brain, what it would take to capture that beauty on film.

Abby, for her part, carries Carol through the highest peaks of her pleasure and stays with her in the aftermath, coaxing every last shiver from her trembling frame. Therese watches in a daze as she helps Carol out of her dress, arranges the pillows underneath Carol’s head, extracts her arm from beneath Carol’s hips, and rubs her hands up and down Carol’s thighs in firm, soothing strokes. Then, when Carol is still and calm, she turns to Therese.

“Come on, darling,” she says, patting the spot on the bed in front of her. “Time to stop sitting on the sidelines.”

Therese gulps. She stands up and nearly collapses on shaky legs, but somehow makes it across the room to perch where Abby has indicated. Carol, sprawled on her side of the bed and still looking blissfully relaxed, gives her a knowing smirk. “Your turn,” she teases. “Think you’re ready?”

Therese clears her throat. She can feel Abby’s eyes on her, hungry, and the swollen feeling between her legs intensifies. “I’m ready,” she says, hoping her voice isn’t too unsteady.

“Then come here,” Abby says, and scoops Therese into her lap.

Kissing Abby this time is very different from the peck in the kitchen. Her mouth is firmer than Carol’s, more insistent, and her hands feel bigger wrapped around Therese’s waist, but her tongue is soft, sliding over Therese’s lips and then pressing inside. She unzips Therese’s dress smoothly and pulls it over her head, then unclasps her brassiere and removes that, too. “Goodness,” she murmurs, pulling back to run her hands over Therese’s bare skin. “You _are_ beautiful.”

“Isn’t she?” Carol agrees, sounding a little more like herself now. Therese feels familiar fingers running up and down her calf, and she looks over, offering Carol what she is sure must be a ridiculous grin. Carol returns it, eyes glittering.

While Carol and Therese gaze at each other, Abby busies herself with removing the final scrap of clothing from Therese’s body, then trails a hand up Therese’s thigh. When she touches Therese between her legs, she lets out an involuntary groan. “God, she’s soaked,” she tells Carol, cupping Therese with her whole hand. Therese whimpers, grinding down on her palm.

“Yes, she’s very… responsive,” Carol says. Therese can hear a note of pride in her voice, and it sends a thrill through her.

“Do you want more?” Abby asks.

Therese nods fervently, and Abby slides her hand back, pressing two fingers to Therese’s entrance and waiting for Therese to sink down onto them. Her hands _are_ bigger than Carol’s. Therese arches, eyes rolling back, and feels Abby put an arm around her back to brace her.

“That’s a good girl,” Abby murmurs, thrusting up gently as Therese rides her. “So pretty, so tight – Jesus, Carol, how did you get so lucky?”

The praise in Abby’s words augments the pleasure from her hand, and Therese can feel another climax growing already, starting somewhere around her tailbone and curling up her spine. Then, there are hands following that same path, stroking her back and reaching around to cup her breasts; Carol has moved to sit behind her.

The dual sensation is almost enough to send her flying, but she doesn’t want to lose this feeling yet, doesn’t want to give up this all-encompassing desire, and so she bites her tongue, hard. The brief, sharp pain is enough to draw her back from the edge, and she leans back into Carol’s body, relishing the smell of familiar perfume and the brush of Carol’s silky-soft hair. “Does this feel good, darling?” Carol asks, kissing her neck.

Therese nods and moans. She is vaguely aware of Carol communicating something to Abby with a few quick gestures, then feels Carol’s teeth scraping along her shoulder. They both pause for a moment, Therese suspended motionless between them, and then move in unison. Abby thrusts deep and crooks her fingers forward, while Carol bites down on Therese’s shoulder, squeezing her breast with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.

It’s an inspired act of foresight – Therese’s whole body quakes, and she cries out into Carol’s palm. The sensation that rips through her is immolating; so intense that her vision blurs. There’s a loud ringing in her ears, and she can feel her heart pounding, pounding, pounding – not in her chest, but low in the center of her body. It seems that full minutes pass before the force of her pleasure even begins to fade, and only after having shaken loose every joint in her limbs.

She comes back into consciousness and finds herself laying on the bed, looking at the world sideways. Abby and Carol are horizontal as well, facing her, Carol pressed against Abby’s back and peering over her shoulder at Therese with a devious smile. “Hello, sweetheart,” she murmurs when Therese’ eyes flutter open. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Therese tries to say something smart in response, but can’t quite get her lips and tongue to work as they should. “Mmmph,” she mumbles instead.

Abby – who is still fully dressed, Therese realizes – grins and reaches over to give Therese’s hip an affectionate squeeze. Then, she lifts Carol’s arm from where it is wrapped around her waist and wriggles out from between them. Therese offers a bereft moan. “I’ll be right back,” Abby promises, slipping out of the bedroom.

In her absence, Carol slides across the bed and takes Therese in her arms. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

“S’good,” Therese slurs, then blushes and buries her face in Carol’s neck. She’s never felt so dismantled.

Carol laughs and strokes a hand through her hair, and Therese feels a wave of emotion rise in her throat at the gentle, familiar touch. “Love you,” she says, nose still pressed to Carol’s collarbone.

Carol pulls back and cups her face, looks her directly in the eye. “I love you so much, Therese,” she replies. “Are you – how are you handling all of this?”

It’s a bit late to be asking, but Therese adores Carol for it anyway. “Oh, believe me, I'm just fine. How are you?”

Carol smirks. “Never better.”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and they both look up. Abby has returned, sans clothing this time, and is leaning provocatively against the doorframe. Therese feels Carol’s hand twitch reflexively at her waist. “I figured I would hasten the rest of this process,” Abby says, crossing her arms in a gesture that draws both Therese’s and Carol’s eyes to her chest. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Therese demurs. She can’t tear her gaze away from Abby’s body, which is lithe and surprisingly muscular. Abby dresses more conservatively than Carol – always au courant, but modest – and Therese hadn’t really known what to expect underneath. Being presented now with the full reality of her nude form is compelling, to say the least, and she sits up, beckoning Abby over.

“Lovely as ever,” Carol remarks, making room for Abby to crawl between them once more and drawing one appraising finger along the curve of Abby’s bicep. “She was the star of the tennis team in school,” she tells Therese.

Therese can believe it – reclining on the pillows, basking in the sun of Carol’s attention, Abby looks every inch the young varsity athlete. “Carol was my greatest fan,” Abby says, reaching up to touch Carol’s cheek. “Always came to my matches, always cheered the loudest.”

Abruptly, Therese feels her eyes fill with tears. The way they’re arranged here together – Abby, lounging and confident; Carol, supporting herself on her elbow and gazing at her with infinite tenderness – seems to hold all the years between them at once, all the love and the desire and sweetness; all the heartbreak and pain and deliverance. There is such pure, astonishing grace in the fact that they have been together in so many ways and for so long; that they are still together, here and now; and Therese wants to weep for joy to witness it.

They’re distracted by each other now, kissing again (albeit with less ferocious intensity than the first time around), and it takes a minute before Abby spots the tears streaming silently down Therese’s face. “Oh,” she gasps, sitting up so fast that Carol nearly topples off the bed. “Therese – are you –“

“I’m fine, I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” Therese says, flapping her hands at them and trying to rub at her cheek with her shoulder. Abby and Carol are wearing identical expressions of horror so abject it’s comical, and she starts laughing through her tears. “Really, it’s all right! I just get emotional about, you know.” She gestures between the two of them.

Carol and Abby exchange a distressed glance, and Carol reaches for Therese gingerly. “Therese, we don’t – we would _never_ want to exclude you,” she says.

“But that’s just it,” Therese replies. “I don’t feel excluded. I feel incredibly, perfectly _included_.”

They still look dubious, and Therese sighs in exasperation. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? And you’re both _so_ beautiful, and – and I’m just so pleased that because you have each other, neither of you has ever really had to be alone.” Something like comprehension finally starts dawning on both their faces. “I adore you. I adore you both. And you adore each other. And that’s – well. It’s just very nice, you see?”

Abby and Carol both seem to have been rendered momentarily speechless, but at least they no longer look so worried. Abby is smiling shyly, and Carol’s eyes are shining with love. Therese folds her hands in her lap and waits for their response.

Carol is the first to recover. “My angel,” she murmurs, leaning across Abby’s legs to kiss Therese. “Your heart is the most precious thing in the world.”

“You _are_ a marvel,” Abby agrees, caressing Therese’s arm. Therese leans into her, and the mood of the room shifts again, moving from sweet to sultry in the space of an instant.

“Oh, just wait til you have her head between your thighs,” Carol purrs. “If you think that mouth is nice now…”

Abby raises an eyebrow, and Therese blushes violently. “I’d quite like that,” Abby remarks, taking one of Therese’s hands and putting it on her breast. “Why don’t you show me?”

Face still hot, Therese obeys, kneeling between Abby’s legs and kissing her once on the mouth before trailing her lips down the rest of Abby’s body, pausing here and there to lick and suck and bite, as Carol has taught her. Abby makes little encouraging noises as she progresses, and inhales sharply when Therese makes it to ridge of her hipbone.

“Come here,” Abby murmurs, and Therese glances up to see her drawing Carol into another deep kiss. It spurs something urgent in Therese, and she kisses her way quickly down the rest of Abby’s abdomen before laying on her stomach and pressing her tongue against Abby with no further preamble.

The moan that rumbles from Abby’s throat at that first contact is electrifying, and Therese shifts closer, licking in long, firm strokes. Abby tastes similar to Carol, but different in a way that Therese can’t put her finger on, which only makes her hungrier for more. Soon, every swipe of her tongue and press of her lips makes an obscene sound – wet, and absolutely delicious.

Abby is gasping, moaning a little on every breath, and when Therese looks up, she sees her face is slack with lust. Carol, hovering nearby and mercilessly teasing Abby with feather-light caresses to her breasts, catches Therese’s eye and grins. It drives Therese wild – seeing what she does to Abby; doing it with Carol beside her – and she redoubles her efforts.

She is rewarded with surprising rapidity. In what seems like no time at all, Abby’s breathing grows shallower and shallower, culminating in a short, sharp cry and a rush of moisture on Therese’s tongue. Therese keeps her mouth where it is and directs her gaze at Carol again, certain that it can’t already be over – but Carol’s grin just widens as she explains, “She’s rather quick to go off.”

Abby, still twitching, manages to direct a half-hearted glare at Carol before her eyes slip shut again at a well-placed lick from Therese. “C-careful,” she murmurs, her hands hovering over Therese’s hair but not touching her. “S-sensitive.”

Therese backs off slightly, running just the tip of her tongue through soft, swollen folds. Abby sighs, body melting into the mattress. “Magnificent,” she hums, as relaxed as Therese has ever seen her.

Therese assumes she’s finished and moves to sit up, but Carol lays a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be fooled,” she says. “She may be easy, but she’s got stamina.”

Abby offers another glower at being talked about in the third person, but it disappears as soon as Therese applies a little extra pressure. “All right?” Therese asks, voice muffled – not pulling away, but not wanting to hurt Abby, either.

“ _Yes_ ,” Abby replies with feeling, finally putting her hands in Therese’s hair and pulling her closer. “That mouth of yours…”

“What did I tell you?” Carol says, smug as can be.

For her part, Therese is thrilled. With Carol, she’s always disappointed when it’s over – always ravenous for more – but Carol’s pleasure is typically singular, and so at the end of most of their nights together, she contents herself with long, slow kisses and gentle backrubs and other caresses that Carol receives gladly. But this – an unrestricted opportunity to practice what is rapidly become one of her favorite hobbies – is pure, delightful decadence.

She licks Abby through three more crests of satisfaction, which Abby rides like a rollercoaster, and then Carol takes a turn, propping up Abby’s hips with a pillow so that she can use her fingers as well. By the seventh time, Abby is drenched in sweat and babbling, wriggling away from Carol’s persistent mouth. “Enough, enough–!“ she exclaims weakly. “No more, Carol, I can’t.”

She’d said that the time before, and the time before that as well, but Carol hadn’t listened, much to Therese’s delight and Abby’s swooning gratification. This time, though, Carol seems to take her at her word, and drags herself up to collapse onto the pillows. Her face is a mess, makeup smeared in every direction, chin shining. She looks gorgeous, and Therese tells her so.

“You’re both gorgeous,” Abby groans. “Gorgeous, and absolutely _wicked_. I’ve never… not like that…”

“That’s what you get with double the trouble,” Carol says, kissing her cheek cheerfully. “Are you feeling better?”

“Better than what? I’m fairly certain I’ve never felt this good in my life, so you’ll have to remind me what we’re measuring against.”

Carol and Therese exchange a glance. “Well, you did come here because of what happened with Joan,” Therese reminds her.

Abby’s eyes pop open. She looks genuinely astonished, and then, after a moment, bursts out laughing. “Do you know what? I’d completely forgotten.”

“Sorry to bring it up,” Therese mutters.

Abby smirks and tilts her head to kiss Therese’s shoulder. “Don’t be. I’m feeling like a whole new me.”

Therese doesn’t detect anything other than genuine delight in Abby’s face, and she decides that Carol can handle any other emotion that does come up. “I’ll be back,” she says, sliding off the bed.

In the bathroom, Abby’s dress is flung over the curtain rod. Therese uses the toilet and then washes her hands slowly, looking closely at her own reflection. There’s a red mark on her shoulder where Carol bit her, and prodding at it brings back a rush of erotic memory so strong she has to grip the sink to stay upright. She smiles at herself, and fancies that there’s a new edge to that smile – an understanding that started that first night with Carol and has expanded prodigiously this evening. She dries her hands and pads back down the hall.

As she reaches for the half-open bedroom door, she hears a peal of laughter – the kind of room-shaking hilarity that she has only managed to provoke in Carol in a handful of instances, but that emerges readily whenever Abby comes around. It’s the first time in the whole night she’s felt even a twinge of jealousy, and she pushes the door open quickly, trying to push away the feeling with it.

Carol and Abby look up as soon as she steps over the threshold, eyes bright and happy. They are wrapped up in each other, but reaching for her, too – a perfect pair, yet still somehow wanting a third. Therese breathes in; the feeling flees.

“Come here, darling,” Carol says, hand outstretched and smile wreathed in love. “We were just talking about you.”


End file.
